In most intimate touch we meet,
Lip to lip, Breast to breast,
Sweet.
Suddenly we draw apart
And start.
Like strangers surprised at a road’s turning
We see, I, the naked you;
You, the naked me.
There was something of neither of us
That covered the hours,
And we have only touched each other’s bodies
Through veils of flowers.
But let us smile kindly,
Like those already dead,
On the warm flesh
And the marriage bed.

“So she thoroughly taught him that one cannot take pleasure without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every glance, every last bit of the body has its secret, which brings happiness to the person who knows how to wake it.

She taught him that after a celebration of love the lovers should not part without admiring each other, without being conquered or having conquered, so that neither is bleak or glutted or has the bad feeling of being used or misused.”